Right To Live
by coztic
Summary: It wasn't over. It was never over. What Hawkeye and Chingachgook did not know was that Alice survived. And, maybe, Uncas too. A new battle for survival begins...
1. She Survived

She gasped for air.

She gasped for air as she fell rapidly down towards the mountain greens, a disgusting sucking sensation closing around her. She closed her eyes as she waited for impact. This was what she wanted. That man killed the only boy in the world that she would ever love.

Uncas.

She felt her mind go blank as images of the Mohican flashed through her head. His smile, his touch, his hair. But mostly his eyes. What was it about them that made her feel safe? What was it about them that made it seem as if everything was going to be okay?

She felt the suction rapidly increase as she landed harshly against the ground. Her mind went blank; the last thing image she saw was Uncas' loving eyes.

...

Alice woke up, everything around her in darkness. Was this death? A quiet, lonesome place where souls only wandered helplessly around? She tried to get up, but the painful sting in her leg made her realize that she was still alive.

Broken, mangled, and bloodied, but alive.

She felt tears well up in her eyes. This wasn't what she wanted! She wanted to die! She wanted to be with Uncas! The tears started to fall rapidly onto the rough earth. She layed there, her bone's broken, barely able to move. In fact, the only way she _could_ move was if she had a walking stick. Her thigh was terribly bloodied; her leg was broken. She touched her forehead. A sticky substance coated her fingers. Her hair was thick with dried blood.

Alice tried to stand up, but the sharp pain in her leg made her fall back down with a yelp. She looked around, looking for support. A dried branch caught her eye. Slowly and painfully, she crawled towards it. It was crude, and it didn't look comfortable. But it was sturdy. And that was the only thing she needed.

She painfully leaned against the stick and began to walk aimlessly around the forest. Her plan was simple; she wanted to wear herself out so she could finally die. And, if she happened to find Uncas' body, she would let herself fall against it and die on him, so they would be together.

Hours passed. She did not feel death's grope around her, nor did she find Uncas' body. All she found were leaves, dirt, and twigs. She felt herself cry. She cried. She cried.

Oh, was _this_ the way that Fate wanted her to go? Wandering aimlessly in a forest? Plotting a mad plan in her head? She was but fifteen years old; yet, she had gone through one thousand years. Death was not looking upon her. Pain was seething against her. Hot tears trickled down her cheeks. UNCAS!

Suddenly, she tripped. Groaning in frustration, she looked harshly at what had caused her fall.

And then she cried.

Uncas.

His body was a bloody mess; mangled, torn, disheveled. His eyes were closed as if in some deep sleep; yet Alice knew that this was not the case.

She felt a lump form in her throat as she threw herself against him. She would die here. She would wait for Death to claim her here. She kissed Uncas' cold lips and lied against his chest. She closed her eyes and waited for death to come...

Thump.

What was that? Was that Death walking towards her?

Th...ump.

Alice sat up straight, ignoring the intense pain in her chest. She pressed her thumb against Uncas' neck. Her eyes widened as she felt a slight pulse. Barely there, but a pulse.

Alice's eyes brimmed with tears. There was still a chance!

A chance!

But what to do...


	2. He Would Live

She leaned painfully against the dry branch trying to think of what to do. She had been down here before; she knew that there was a spring not too far from here. But how was she supposed to help Uncas? She herself was badly wounded. Her chest was aching; she knew she had broken her collar bone. Her thigh and leg were broken in several places. But then, she thanked God for letting her escape with only these injuries; she could have broken her neck _very_ easily.

Unfortunately, Uncas was not as lucky. Not only was he losing blood rapidly, but in addition to the severe wounds inflicted by Magua, he was suffering from various broken bones. It was possible that he would never walk again _if_ he survived.

Alice shuddered at the _if_. No. "If" was no longer in her vocabulary. She had gone too far to give up. He _would_ survive. He _would_ survive _and_ walk. And run. And hunt. And hold her.

His life was in her hands. She couldn't give up so easily.

She took a deep breath and limped as fast as she could towards the small spring.

...

He could hear her voice. And he could feel her touch. But he couldn't see her. And he couldn't hold her. And that hurt him deeply. He struggled to move; to open his eyes, but it was all in vain. He felt the pain in his stomach seeth at him mercilessly. He tried to smile when she kissed him, but it felt like something had frozen him altogether. And it frustrated him. Never mind that it was very possible that he would die. Never mind that if he _did_ survive, his life might never be the same. Only one thing kept him going.

Alice.

...

She struggled with bringing the water back from the stream. Her thigh was now like a boulder, not budging when she tried to move it. Her pale blue eyes plainly showed the fierce pain she was struggling with. She bit her lip and started to move again. Carrying water to the wounded was never this hard; but then again, she never did carry water not in a bucket, but in piece of hollow log, _limping_ pitifully, with broken bones seething aginst her endlessly. But she did not care.

She was tired of being timid, tired of letting things get to her. She could _not_ give up. The pain was temporary; the reward was eternal. She _would _save Uncas!

With renewed strength, she braced herself as she carried the heavy "jug" towards the wounded Indian. She sighed in relief as she sat down. But she was far from done.

She had already known that she had to make some sort of brace for all of the broken bones in Uncas' body. And she already knew that she needed similar treatment. But after what he had done for her...

She would fight to the end for him.

She gritted her teeth in pain as she tore off a piece of her battered skirt. Her arms were aching. She began to suspect a dislocated shoulder. But that didn't matter. Uncas did. She bathed the clothe in the cold water and began to pat it gently across the deep, multiple wounds all over the Mohican's torso. He had lost much blood. But she prayed that he would survive. No, she _knew_ he would survive. God was on her side. So God would help him.

She then gently wrapped the moist clothe around his waist. It began to tremble slightly, perhaps from the pain. But that was good. That meant that he was regaining consciousness.

She then dabbed his face with the water. As the clothe gently touched his smooth, copper skin, her finger slipped and accidentally touched him. She quickly drew back, her heart pounding. What if he evaporated? What if he suddenly died? All sorts of foolish, but, heartbreaking, thoughts entered her mind. She immediately shook away those thoughts. She was no longer a child. This wasn't the time for silly little games. She had a life in her hands.

A life she loved dearly.

She gently carassed his face. She looked at his copper skin, bright with sweat. She swallowed a lump in her throat as flashes of memories crossed her mind. Magua. He would pay. She didn't know how, but he _would_ pay.

She remembered what he had done, in order to protect her. To show her he loved her. They barely had ever talked; it was mostly small words, meaningless greetings. But the glances they stole were worth a thousand words. They had been through so much together; words, to them, were useless. But the glances, the looks, the touches..._they were all real_. And she loved him. She loved him dearly.

She wouldn't let him die.

She felt her fifteen year old heart pound pitifully. She felt her eyes brim with tears. She flung herself upon him. "Why did you deserve this!" she whimpered. She squeezed her eyes shut. She remembered the look he gave her as he was supposedly killed, mercilessly, painfully. Though he was not dead, he was in a horrible pain she knew. The terrible Huron had slit his stomach slowly. And it pained Alice to see his eyebrows knit together in painful agony. And it wretched her heart out to see him stir, only to be stilled by his wounds.

Wait, he was _moving_?


	3. For Alice

He had given up all hope.

When he versed against Magua, he knew that he was going to lose. He _knew_he was going to die. But he had tried anyways. Anything for Alice. When he had struck four men down, it did not phase him. He knew that his doom was close at hand. Magua. His eyes were cold, threatening to hack him into pieces. And it wasn't just a threat. It was a sure reality.

But Uncas hadn't cared. He looked at Alice, trying to soak up her image one last time, and then faced Magua. Though Uncas was a notable warrior, the Mohican was nothing compared to the hardened, experienced Huron. As he tried to deliver a blow, Magua had easily blocked his attack and disabled his arm at the same time. Even though he knew it was futile, Uncas tried one last blow against his enemy. The older Huron calmly blocked his attack, and quickly stabbed him deeply multiple times.

The pain was unbearable. The fear was worse. But he would not show his fear. No. Let Magua take his life, but not his dignity. Wearily, with no strength left to fight, Uncas calmly let Magua lift him up and slit his stomach. And that knife inching towards his throat...

Pain rang in his ears as he fell down the cliff. Many memories crossed his mind. He remembered growing up with Hawkeye, and the stories his father would tell them about the Mohican heritage. He remembered trapping and hunting with his father and brother, blessing each animal before they killed it. But then he remembered when he first saw Alice...

And he felt as if his soul was finally let free.

He did not feel the crushing of his bones as he tumbled down the steep cliff. He did not feel sharp twigs slashing at his flesh as he fell down through the trees. All he heard was a whisper. "Uncas..."

_"Uncas..."_

And he felt that it was time to go. He had nothing to hold to; his beloved was gone. He was letting his mind go blank...letting his sight grow dark.

But death would not come.

The pain was great; he could not move his neck or else an merciless shock would shoot up inside of him. His legs were utterly useless; he could barely feel them. His torso was losing blood rapidly from the multiple stab wounds he received. His right arm was completely numb.

And yet he lived.

"Oh Great Spirit," he would cry out in barely a whisper. "Why do you let me live? I have nothing!"

He would repeat this over and over until he could no longer speak. He closed his eyes and beckoned for a quick end. He was willing to die; at least Alice would know that he loved her.

And so, hours after his supposed "death", a dark cloud began to drift upon him...

And kissed his lips.

Uncas felt an unnerving shock. He struggled to open his eyes. He tried to move, tried to find out what was going on. And then that sweet voice awakened his will to live...

"_Uncas..._"

Alice!

He felt a fire burn within him that was quenched long ago. A deep passion stirred within him, whispering in his ear: "Live, young Mohican, live!"

And that was what Uncas would do. He would live. He _would_ live. Not for his sake, but for the sake of the one he loved. Alice.

So he struggled. He struggled with the overbearing pain, with the numbness caressing his body. He struggled until a snap of pain made him flinch. He felt himself become less of a spirit and more of a man. Though the pain was great, he realized that it was the only way to get himself to wake up.

Not for his sake. Alice's sake.

Let him live to a ripe old age. Just let him die with her. So he could be with her. Forever.

For Alice.


	4. Unspoken Words

His vision was returning hazily, not nearly as blinding as before. The chilling water made him more attentive to his injuries. They _hurt._

They would soon require assistance to become themselves again.

He rummaged his mind, thinking of places that were near them. Remembering correctly, there was a Shawnee village about 1 or 2 days from here. The people there knew him.

A mental moan of frustation rung throughout him. He couldn't walk. He couldn't stand. He couldn't _protect_ Alice.

But he felt her, working vigorously to save him. With Alice near him, he could do anything.

Although broken, his leg seemed to be put in a wooden brace of sorts. Somehow, the bones had not separated as awful as it should have been. The towering fall had not killed him. All of those needles and leaves must have slowed down his falling speed and softened his landing.

He still hadn't figured out how Magua had only been able to give him a stomach wound; a mild one at that. Uncas... he was grateful to be alive, even more with Alice beside him.

Alice could stop the bleeding, he knew she could! Maybe if they traveled to that Indian village...

...

Sticky beads of salty sweat trickled down Alice's forehead.

Improvements had been made. Braces for Uncas's broken bones were already on him. Some ointment had been spread on his wounds also. It just happened to be so that Chingachgook told her a few medicinal properties of plants and herbs in the forest. Alice would be forever indebted to him because of that small bit of advice mandatory for life on the frontier.

Some sap from the tree behind her became embedded into her dress, along with the blood and debris.

Now wasn't the time to be worrying about fashion. She worried about shelter.

Alice had remembered sleeping on the ground a few days before. The night hopefully would be the same temperature it was when they had all slept.

She recalled dozing off without any blanket of sorts. But when those French and Indian soldiers were close to discovering them, she woke up with leaves tumbling down her sides while she arose.

They could use leaves for warmth. Alice had no clue how to start a fire with bare materials.

Another concern: food. Obviously where she obtained the water was a tiny spring. And near the tiny spring were some trees with nuts! And blackberry bushes! Wonderful. All that was left to do was to gather.

A sudden headache invaded Alice. She wondered why a headache? But she knew the reason. It was the blood loss from her forehead. Out of all things, Alice had forgotten her own head injury. Ripping another strip of her battered dress, she put the strip in water then tied it around her head.

The last thing Alice wanted to be was forgetful. How would they even survive if she, the only capable care-taker, was basically heedless?

"A-alice...", a very faint voice whispered.

Uncas! He shouldn't be even trying to speak!

She was by his side in an instant, tending the wounds.

"Shhh. Don't speak. Everything will be alright... I promise."

Alice didn't notice his silent promise, either.

...

Tiny mountains of nuts-of which she supposed were acorns or walnuts-were abundant all along the path to the spring. The blackberry bushes were among them too.

In England, Alice had never seen so much forest, an desolate land to her. She didn't know what to think of it at first. It was charming and intimidating at the same time.

When she arrived back at their location in the woods, her skirt was filled with things from the woods. More hollow logs, berries, water, nuts, and some plants and herbs.

The brace on her leg had helped. She hoped the same for Uncas.

...

Uncas felt something rough on his body. He wasn't comfortable with it.

Whatever it was, the pain became worse almost making him want to hiss.

Then, it slowly subsided to a numbing feeling.

He knew who was doing this for him. Alice. He smiled. But why? Does she feel the same for him as he does for her?

"Alice..." Uncas muttered softly,"Why did you jump?"

He then heard a splash of water and cool droplets on his arms before going into a deep slumber.


	5. Can Be Hushed

Supple beads of refreshing spring water dive into the earth below.

A few drops splash on a section of copper skin.

Instinctively, Alice falls to her knees and pull them up to her. She is almost like a frightened child, rocking her self to some comfort. But she cannot seek comfort. She is alone.

Could it be true? Could she not harbor any feelings for Uncas?

Maybe it is the truth. A young white woman with.. with a savage? Does she not remember all the horrible tales from sailors and explores of them? How they come rushing into battle uttering wild sounds, and not sparing woman nor child.

But Uncas was so gracious and, may she say charming. He is nothing like those savages they describe. Could he be though? She remembers the scene on the cliffs. Uncas running straight into danger to protect her. He only did it to protect her. He did not kill for the pleasure. She recalls the grimace in his face each time he killed the enemy.

Weeping unabashed, Alice struggles to make a decision. _Do I stay forever along Uncas, or stray away?_

...

Gleaming ivory stars shine above him. He sees his ancestors looking upon him and Coyote winking.

Without warning, a ferocious grumble gives birth from his cloth-patched stomach.

"Uhhh...," Uncas moans. "Food..."

Hurriedly, Alice scrambles over to him with a handful of berries and nuts.

Uncas frowns. He doesn't know why he's been so finicky lately. _Not those again. The berries are bitter; and the nuts are as hard as rocks._

"This will just take a second," Alice confirms. She tilts his head back and places the substances in his mouth and motions for him to chew. Uncas scowls at the foul taste.

"Hehe, it doesn't taste that bad." Alice giggles. "See, ahh." Another handful of the horrid food goes into her cavity. He can't help but notice her lips moving in sync with her mouth.

Everything about her is enticing; her laugh, her lips, her voice! He can go on forever.

She is also intriguing to watch and observe. The way she thrashes about when something isn't right, or the way she seems so helpless.

Uncas concludes he cannot wait to be healed.

...

Two duos of chocolate eyes saunter over the obscure camp site.

Alice twists, turning over to face Uncas, who, is also awake.

The constant rustling of leaves bothers them a tiny bit.

Alice wishes she were at home, in her own bed, with a soft, warm blanket. A corner of her mouth lifts up.

Uncas desires, more than anything, for his father and brother. He wonders if Alice misses her sister.

"Uncas, do you think they have forgotten about us?"

This girl fascinates him. It's as if she read his mind.

"I do not think so Miss Alice." He responds.

It is silent for awhile.

"There is no need for formalities... Uncas." She affirms strongly and lays on her back. "Where will we go after we are well?"

Uncas ponders on that. He already knows the answer. "Shawnee Indian camp. Some of my father's good friends are in that tribe."

"Oh." Alice states bluntly.

Another irritable crackle of leaves sounds when Alice turns to Uncas again. She peers into his deep chestnut eyes.

After what seems like an eternity Alice closes her eyes. "Goodnight Uncas," she mutters and unmistakenly huddles closer to him.

He repeats her words. And later on in the night, he holds her in his arms for the second time.


End file.
